


Recuperation

by wendymr



Series: Existential Flu [2]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Lyn does know I'm coming, doesn't she?"</i>  In which Robbie and James assist in a move.</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/985191">Natural Remedy</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Recuperation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sasha1600](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha1600/gifts).



> Written for Sasha1600, who nagged and nagged for a sequel. With very many thanks to Uniquepov and Lindenharp for their usual helpful BRing - and to Sasha1600 for what is beyond doubt the best line in the story.

“Lyn does know I’m coming, doesn’t she?”

“Course she does. Wouldn’t just spring you on her.”

James’s brows draw together. “Am I the sort of person about whom people need advance warning?”

“Oh, yeah.” Robbie grins. “Look out for low-flying smartarsery and mockery disguised as respect.”

A faint twitch of James’s lips; it’s blink and you’ll miss it, as usual. “From what I’ve overheard, Lyn’s fairly adept at that herself.”

“She is, at that.” Robbie allows himself an exaggerated sigh. “What am I doing, allowing you two to meet?”

“It’s not too late,” James says quickly. “We’re not even at the M40 yet. You could drop me off here and I can get a bus back.”

Bugger. James does deadpan so well at times that just occasionally it’s not easy to work out whether he’s serious. He’s not gone and undone all the efforts he’s made to make James feel welcome?

But a quick glance at his sergeant shows the bloke’s barely managing to hold back a smartarse smirk. “Sod.” 

Just one eyebrow quirks this time. “This wouldn’t be another subtle attempt to find out at which end of the sexuality spectrum I lie, would it, sir?”

Robbie almost groans at the thought that he’ll have to put up with this for the entire weekend – and then admits, to himself at any rate, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

_____________________________

In an attempt to beat Bank Holiday traffic, they left the station around lunchtime, going home separately to change, and Robbie picked James up, complete with rucksack, a short while later. They’re expected at Lyn’s for dinner and a relaxing evening tonight, and then a bright and early start to the move tomorrow.

“Though we’re going to send the two of you over to the new house for the night, Dad,” she’d told him on the phone this morning when he’d called to confirm what time they’d be leaving Oxford. “The spare room in the flat’s full of boxes, and I’m not sure where we could put James. The shop’s delivering the new spare bed to the house in the afternoon, so at least you’ll be sorted. Do you think James would mind a camp-bed? There’s no bed for the third bedroom, because that’s going to be the nurs–”

“James will be fine wherever you put him,” he’d said, cutting across her fretting, first because it wasn’t necessary, and second because he’d really had to get to work. 

Though now, as he merges onto the M6, he wonders. James really is a bit too lanky for any camp-bed he’s ever seen, and although the lad manages to contort himself onto Robbie’s sofa fairly frequently, he’s pretty sure that the morning after the last time James slept there the bloke was rubbing his spine a bit. Can’t have James wrecking his back just because he’s doing Lyn and himself a favour – that wouldn’t be right. 

Ah, well, he’ll sort something out, even if it means booking James into the nearest B&B.

_____________________________

Lyn greets him with her usual enthusiastic hug, and then does the same to James, to his obvious consternation – though he recovers well, to his credit, and hugs her back, then shakes hands with Tim.

Enough of the welcomes; time to get to the important stuff. Robbie nudges Lyn. “Right, then, where’s my little bairn, eh?” Two minutes later, he’s ensconced on the sofa in what’s now a very cluttered living-room, boxes and suitcases everywhere, and Lyn’s putting young Andrew in his lap. Andrew’s wide awake, squealing excitedly as he recognises his granddad, and he wriggles and bounces, grabbing at Robbie’s hair and the collar of his rugby shirt; Robbie has to grab onto him to prevent him falling to the floor.

James walks into the room, then stops, arrested, and his gaze fixes on Robbie and Andrew. His eyes widen, and then his narrow face creases in rare amusement, lips twitching and eyes alight. “What would a photograph be worth back at the nick, I wonder,” he murmurs.

“Oi, you.” Robbie frowns at him, then indicates the cushion next to him. “Sit.” James does, looking puzzled – and then alarmed as Robbie holds Andrew out to him.

“Sir – no. Really not a good idea–“ Robbie sits Andrew on James’s lap. “Sir!” 

“Go on, don’t be such a big girl’s blouse. You can say hello to me grandson, can’t you? There you are, Andrew, say hello to your Uncle James.”

Gingerly, and with an embarrassed flush working its way up his neck, James wraps his hands around Andrew’s torso, holding him steady – and then Andrew looks up at him, expression full of curiosity, and James stares back. “Hello there. You don’t know me, but your granddad thinks you should. Though I’m really not the sort of person someone like you would find interesting.” Andrew’s face wrinkles, and his hands form fists. James looks near-terrified. “I’m going to make him cry.”

Robbie grins. “He’s probably just dirtying his nappy.” James’s expression turns fixed, but commendably he doesn’t try to hand Andrew off. And then the little tyke reaches up and pokes James in the nose, chuckling loudly.

Simultaneously, there’s a flash. Lyn’s taken a photo with her phone. “I’ll email it to you, Dad. Think it’ll look good on one of your murder boards?”

Robbie ignores the murderous look James is giving him. “Oh, yes.”

_____________________________

“We’ll see you both back here for breakfast, then.” Another quick hug for both of them from Lyn, and the two of them make a run for it through the downpour that’s been persistent for the last few hours to Robbie’s car.

James cranks the heating up as soon as they’re inside. “Who’d have thought it’d turn this cold in May?”

Robbie shivers; he didn’t bring a coat, and the rain’s soaked right through his top. “Just hope the heating’s turned on in the new house.”

It’s not, though once Robbie turns the thermostat on he can hear the system cranking into life. It’ll be an hour or so before they start to feel any benefit, all the same. 

The house is nice, even if it’s in need of some TLC in a few places, he considers after a quick look around. Decent kitchen and eating area, and the open-plan sitting and dining room will work nicely. The bedrooms are also a reasonable size. It’s a lot better than what he and Val were able to afford when the kids were born. 

When he comes back downstairs after dropping his bag in the guestroom where Lyn’s made up a bed for him, he finds James sitting on the camp-bed, taking his shoes off. Damn it, he never did look into any other option for the bloke, and that thing’s far too short and insubstantial for him. This room’s a bit draughty, too – Robbie’ll have to investigate tomorrow, to see where the cold’s getting in – and James is already half-frozen, by the look of him. This won’t do.

“You can’t sleep here, man. Get your things an’ come on upstairs. Bed in the spare room’s easily big enough for two.”

James turns slowly, looking like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. “Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t, would I? Now, get a move on – you heard Lyn, she wants us back there by eight tomorrow.”

_____________________________

It’s warm, and he’s very comfortable in a way he hasn’t been in a very long time. There’s a warm body snuggled up against him and a long arm around his waist, and his head’s on his partner’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around...

Around who? 

Robbie lies very still as memory returns: taking turns to use the bathroom, James coming back in T-shirt and sleep shorts and looking just a little awkward as he pulled back the quilt and climbed into the other side of the bed. Robbie turning the light off with a gruff goodnight, and James’s “Goodnight, sir,” in response. Turning over to lie on his side with his back to James in what’s a pretty comfortable double bed.

And now this. _Cuddling_ , with his sergeant. No, not his sergeant – they’re off-duty, and James is here as his friend. That’s how he intended the invitation, any road. But this? He won’t deny that he’s imagined waking up like this with a number of people – most of all Val, and maybe Laura once or twice – but never with James Hathaway.

Just as he’s trying to figure out what to do, James shifts slightly. _Shit_. Now he’s got to think of what to say. Unless he pretends... Yeah, that’ll do. Robbie stays completely still and focuses on keeping his breathing even. Quietly, with a minimum of movement, James eases himself out of Robbie’s embrace and slides out of bed. It’s not until two minutes later, when he hears the shower running, that Robbie lets himself relax.

When James comes back ten minutes later, in his underwear and rubbing his hair with a towel, his only comment is a casual, “Oh, you’re awake. Bathroom’s all yours.”

He must have been convincing, then. That’s a relief. He stretches and glances at his watch. It’s already half-seven. “Best get our skates on.”

But it’s not his narrow escape that he finds himself thinking about in the shower. It’s the fact that, unless Lyn and Tim’s sofa is actually a sofa-bed, he’s going to have to share with James again tonight – and that he can’t stop thinking about how comfortable he felt when he first woke up.

_____________________________

“Never asked. What are you doing with the little one today? You’re not taking him with you, surely?” Andrew’s on Robbie’s lap at the kitchen table, watching bright-eyed as they all eat.

“Tim’s mum is taking him until tomorrow evening. She’ll be here any minute.” Lyn suddenly jumps to her feet. “Oh, hell, I don’t have anything packed–” 

“No need to panic, love.” Tim lays a hand on her shoulder, pushing her gently back down. “I did it all last night.”

James is looking at him, head cocked to one side and one of those smiles that Robbie always knows means he’s about to be mean. He sighs; best get it over with. “Go on, what is it?” 

James’s smile widens. “I was just thinking how much he takes after you, sir. He clearly loves his food – and he’s got your nose.”

Robbie gives James a look that tells him he’ll pay for that later. But now Lyn’s staring at him. “What’ve I done now?” he asks wearily.

“You don’t seriously make James call you sir when you’re not working, Dad? That’s ridiculous!”

He blinks; in the same moment, out of the corner of his eye, he spots the look of shock on James’s face. “Never told him he has to.” 

“Yeah, and have you ever told him he doesn’t?” His face clearly gives the answer away, and Lyn shakes her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re useless sometimes, aren’t you?”

“Oi!” The doorbell rings, and then, to his relief, hurried activity breaks out. 

For the next hour, he and James help to load the van, as they’re joined by a couple of Tim’s friends who are around this weekend and are helping with the actual move today. Once everything’s in the house, Robbie and James will stay around to help with unpacking and setting everything up. 

Once the van’s loaded, they pile as many boxes and suitcases as will fit into Robbie’s car, and then they’re driving back over to the new house. Finally, he can talk to James without anyone else around. “Lyn’s right, you know.”

“Sir?” James glances at him, frowning, then returns his attention to the road.

“About that! It’s ridiculous, you callin’ me sir off the clock. Robbie, all right?”

“Robbie.” A slow smile crosses James’s face. “You know, most people are on first-name terms _before_ they share a bed.”

Robbie flushes. Cheeky bloody git. “Watch it, or you’ll have to make do with the camp-bed tonight.”

It’s James’s turn to go a bit pink. “I probably should. I hardly think Lyn would approve of the alternative.”

“She doesn’t have to know. We’ll just move the camp-bed to my room and say it’s so Lyn doesn’t need to worry about waking you if Andrew has her up early.”

James sucks in a breath. “Did I hear you correctly? Are you actually proposing lying to your daughter?” Just as he’s about to give an exasperated retort, a grin spreads across the annoying sod’s face. “Bravo, sir! I’m proud of you!”

“Now I really do know you call me sir to be mean.” Robbie gives James a glare, which turns into a resigned smile as James just grins at him.

_____________________________

By mid-afternoon, they’ve made several trips back and forth, and there’s more furniture and boxes in the house than in the old flat. As the first lot was being unloaded, Robbie had taken the camp-bed up to his bedroom, giving Lyn the reasoning he’d outlined to James. Stressed and clearly with too many things on her mind, she’d nodded. “As long as he’s comfortable. I feel terrible that that’s all we could offer him to sleep on when he’s being so kind to give up his weekend to help us.”

He and James have just carried an armchair from the van into the living-room, and as Robbie straightens his back gives a twinge. He pauses, grimacing, and reaches back to rub the sore spot. In less than an instant, James is next to him, his hand covering Robbie’s on his lower back. “You all right?”

“Fine. Or I will be. Me back just reminded me that I’m not as young as I used to be.”

He’s expecting mockery, along the lines of _and you only realised that now?_ , but there’s nothing but concern in James’s face. “You shouldn’t be doing this. I still remember how much pain you were in when you pulled a muscle in your back before.”

He shakes his head, though James’s worry is touching. “Nah, this is nothing. Give me a minute to stretch it out an’ I’ll be fine.”

James studies him for a long moment, then nods. “All right.” His hand shifts from Robbie’s back to his shoulder. “I’ll give you a massage later, if you like.”

A massage? James? Since when does he know how to do that? But the idea’s more than appealing; although the pain’s mostly gone now, he’s definitely feeling creaky and he has a sneaking suspicion that he’s likely to be aching in the morning. A hot bath and a massage would definitely help.

He catches James’s hand as the bloke removes it from his shoulder, giving it a brief press. “I’d like that. Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” For a split second, there’s a blinding smile on James’s face; then he’s completely matter-of-fact again. “Right, I seem to recall a coffee-table that needs to come in.” With a few long strides, he’s gone.

Robbie has to stay where he is for a moment, catching his breath. Then, just as he’s about to follow James out to the van, a voice from beyond the other end of the room stops him in his tracks. “Aww, that’s so sweet. Did you hear that?”

“What?” That’s Lyn. And the other woman... Robbie searches his brain. Anna, that’s it. Another friend of Tim’s – she turned up an hour or so ago to help. They’re in the kitchen, and there’s a connecting door which is slightly ajar, which is how he’s hearing them talk.

“Your dad’s gorgeous boyfriend. What’s his name again? He sounded so concerned for your dad.”

“Boyfriend?” Lyn sounds as incredulous as Robbie feels. _Boyfriend?_ “James isn’t – That’s ridic–”

“You’re sure?” Now Anna sounds disbelieving. “Have you _seen_ the way they look at each other?”

“Umm.” Now Lyn’s frowning, Robbie knows. “I never thought, but now that you mention it...” And Robbie’s not so lost to his own moment of brain-explosion that he fails to notice that, far from sounding shocked, Lyn’s intrigued.

_____________________________

Why would anyone imagine James is his boyfriend? The idea’s not only ridiculous, it’s completely ludicrous. Even if James is gay – and that wouldn’t be a surprise, would it? – why on earth would he be interested in someone like Robbie? And that’s aside from the fact that he’s not gay himself, is he?

And what did Anna mean about the way they look at each other? He doesn’t look at James like... like that, does he? James doesn’t look at him like that either, does he? The only looks he gets from James are those smartarse smirks, occasional _mind your own business_ frowns, inscrutable expressions, mocking grins and – like earlier – concerned glances. He enumerates them in his head, shutting up the part of his brain that questions why it is that he’s able to list, and visualise, every one of his sergeant’s expressions so clearly.

Robbie shakes his head. Why is he wasting time thinking about this? It’s utter nonsense, and standing around in the living room like a numpty isn’t getting the van unloaded.

Just then, James comes in carrying the coffee-table. “Robbie, any idea where Lyn wants this?” 

“Um.” For a moment, he just stares at James. _His gorgeous boyf_ – He pulls himself together. “Dunno, but I’d guess there–” He gestures to a space near the centre of the room. “She said the couch is going against the side wall.”

“Okay.” For a moment, James meets his gaze, and Robbie almost forgets to breathe. _The way they look at each other_... Then James is setting the coffee-table again, and the moment’s gone. Probably just imagined it, didn’t he?

But he didn’t imagine that morning, waking up in bed with the two of them entangled, did he? Or James sneaking out of bed without a word, and not mentioning it once he knew Robbie was awake. Because he was embarrassed, yeah – but surely the James he’s known for almost seven years would wind him up something chronic about the two of them cuddling in bed? Unless he liked it a bit too much and didn’t want Robbie to know?

Then there’s their conversation in the car earlier. At the time, he’d thought that, if he didn’t know better, he’d describe it as flirting – but maybe it was. And maybe many of their exchanges over the years have been the same thing. Have they been flirting with each other all this time without realising it? Or... has James realised it, and Robbie’s been blissfully ignorant?

Insufficient evidence. The only thing he can do for now is listen and observe – and decide what, if anything, he’s going to do about Lyn.

_____________________________

By evening, all the furniture’s been moved to the new house, and the only things left in the flat are a dozen or so boxes and some items for the nursery. Two or three return trips by car will sort those, and then it’s just the unpacking. That’s all for tomorrow, though. Tonight, it’s Indian takeaway from up the road in Rusholme, and an early night for everyone.

In the spare bedroom, James eyes the double bed and then the camp-bed, and then raises an eyebrow at Robbie. Robbie sighs. “What makes you think that thing’s any better tonight than it was last night? Into bed with you.”

“Thank you.” The words are clearly heartfelt, and as soon as James lies down he groans in relief. 

“Bad back?” Robbie asks, concerned; he’s the one invited James up here, after all, and he doesn’t want it on his conscience that the lad ended up injured.

“Just a bit achy – nothing a good night’s sleep on a decent mattress won’t cure. Which reminds me–” James shifts, leaning up on his elbow. “I promised you a massage.”

Robbie almost rubbishes the suggestion; he never imagined James was serious about it anyway. But a nagging ache in his shoulders and upper back makes him think better of it. “You can do that?”

“Learned at Cambridge. Pulled muscles, strained tendons, aching backs... it was a valuable skill on the rowing team.” James gets to his knees. “Lie on your front. I’ll have to straddle you, okay?”

James doesn’t suggest removing clothes, and Robbie settles down, head buried in his pillow, as his partner’s hands rub and dig and press over and into his back and shoulders. It feels bloody good, even if a couple of times fingers dig a little deeper than he was expecting and a muscle protests. 

After a while, the pressure eases, James’s hands more gentle as they move over him. It’s so relaxing now he knows he’ll sleep like a log.

His mind drifts as he thinks about James. It’s very good of the lad to do this, especially when he’s tired and achy himself. But then that’s the way he is, isn’t he? Just look at the way he’s been today, working non-stop to help people he’s only just met. Though, like as not, he didn’t do it for Lyn and Tim, did he? Knowing James, he did it for his governor. 

_Friend_ , Robbie amends – but then wonders. Does James think of him as a friend? Does James think of him as something more?

... _the way they look at each other_...

He’s been watching James, as much as he can, at any rate, since overhearing that conversation. Most of the time, there’s been nothing there to see, but just occasionally he’s been aware of the bloke watching him – only as soon as he turned to meet James’s gaze each time the lad looked away.

Is there something there? Would he mind if there was?

“You still awake?” James asks, and his hands have stilled.

“Erm... yeah, just about.” He yawns abruptly. “That was great. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” James moves to the side, away from Robbie. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Said it’s Robbie off-duty, an’ that goes for when Lyn’s not around too.” He’d give James a poke with his elbow to show he means it, but he’s too relaxed. “Night, man.”

_____________________________

Robbie blinks into wakefulness, confused for a moment both by where he is and what awoke him. Then another gust of rain and wind against the bedroom window answers the second question. He realises the first a moment later: in Lyn’s new house, snug and comfortable in the spare bed.

And the reason he’s so snug and comfortable is that he’s entangled with his sleeping companion – again.

It’s not just James’s long limbs wrapped around him, though the bloke is doing a great imitation of a clinging vine. Robbie’s got one arm wrapped around James’s back, resting between the lad’s shoulder-blades, and the other hand is resting on James’s hip. And his head’s very comfortable in the crook of James’s shoulder.

Once could be written off as an accident. Twice... well, he knows what any half-decent detective would say about that. Looks like it really is time to ask himself what’s really going on here. 

Waking up like this is _nice_. Less of a shock than yesterday, and as he considers the situation he recognises that he’s in no hurry to move from where he is. What that means, though, is less certain. Does he fancy his lanky, often annoying, yet indispensible sergeant? Or is it just that he’s been on his own and craving this kind of closeness for too long? 

Keeping his eyes shut, Robbie makes himself consider where things could go from here – assuming that James is remotely interested, of course. Could he really imagine kissing the man? Sleeping with – no, _having sex_ with him? His mind wants to shy away from the thought, but he makes himself consider the idea. Intimacy – because that’s what he’s considering – really isn’t a new development between the two of them, is it? Even aside from their current circumstances, they’re always standing or sitting closer than most people, aren’t they? Not to mention the amount of their free time that they choose to spend together. Even during those few months last year when he was on-again-off-again seeing Laura, there were evenings when James was his automatic pub partner of choice, and it hadn’t been until James had asked why he wasn’t with Laura that it had dawned on him that he hadn’t even thought of asking her.

It really was no surprise that she’d been receptive when that old boyfriend of hers had got in touch, was it?

So, all right, maybe he’s not averse to some sort of closer relationship with James, but what about James? And shouldn’t he be more concerned about the fact that he’s the bloke’s boss? 

But that objection’s easily dealt with. If this – whatever this is – is something they both want, and it causes problems at work, he can just retire. He’d nearly done it last year, after all, hadn’t he? And, in the end, the only reason he hadn’t handed in the forms was that he hadn’t wanted to give up his partnership with James. Should have realised then, shouldn’t he?

It’s just down to James, then. Once he wakes up...

James stirs, then stretches – and abruptly tears himself away to sit on the edge of the bed, back to Robbie, shoulders rising and falling as he breathes rapidly. “I’m sorry – I had no idea what I was... sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Before Robbie has time to say a word, James flees.

_____________________________

Robbie gets out of bed more slowly, and collects his clothes so that he’s ready for the shower once James gets back. Much as he’d like to sort this straight away, he’d bet a month’s salary that James is going to be at his most unreachable, at least for a few hours. Nothing for it but to bide his time, and look for clues to support his theory that the bloke’s panic is because he’s interested in Robbie, just as Robbie is in him – and that he’s terrified of being found out.

He’s already got some evidence on that score, anyway. All those looks yesterday, James’s concern about his back – and that massage. Robbie’s had therapeutic massages before. The way James was touching him in the ten minutes or so before he stopped was not therapeutic.

It’s a good start, anyway. He’ll watch and observe, like the experienced detective he is.

James is back in under ten minutes, damp from the shower and avoiding Robbie’s gaze. Robbie lets the lad start to dress in silence as he gets what he needs for his own shower, and then he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “Just one thing, James.”

Without looking at him, James says, in that distant tone Robbie hates, “I would really prefer not to discuss it.”

“Not suggestin’ we discuss it, soft lad.” Robbie deliberately adopts the half-impatient, half-amused air he knows James is very familiar with. “Just telling you to use that oversized detective brain of yours an’ remember it wasn’t just you.”

Before James can react, he leaves the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

_____________________________

Fifteen minutes later, Robbie walks into the kitchen, where Lyn, Tim and James are already having breakfast. A box of cornflakes and a half-empty rack of toast are on the table, along with the usual accompaniments, and there’s a place set for him.

“Tea, Dad?” Lyn asks as Robbie squeezes his way past unpacked boxes to the table.

“Please.”

“I’ll get it.” James is already reaching for the teapot. He pours, then slides the milk towards Robbie – then glances Robbie’s way, a faint question in his eyes. Robbie smiles, and immediately James’s lips tilt upwards, his narrow face transforming for just an instant before he turns back to his own breakfast. 

Across the table, Lyn catches his eye and gives him an impish grin, cheeky monkey that she still is. Ignoring her – oh, he won’t give her the satisfaction – he turns to Tim. “Pass the cornflakes, mate?”

_____________________________

James spends most of the morning carrying boxes upstairs, and then helping Lyn to set up the nursery. Robbie and Tim work in the kitchen, unpacking crockery, food items and equipment and figuring out the best places to put everything. “Though, of course, Lyn’s going to rearrange everything the first chance she gets,” Tim comments.

“Course she will.” Robbie grins. “Her mum was just the same. Thought I was doing her a favour when we moved into the last house, when our Lyn was thirteen. Unpacked everything for her, worked out where things should go based on how often she needed them and what should be close together, but none of it was right. She spent the next day rearranging it all.” He smiles, the memory fond. “Never told her I’d noticed, but most of the stuff ended up back where I’d put it in the first place.”

Tim grins. “Can’t fool a detective, eh?”

It’s lunchtime before James and Lyn come downstairs, and Robbie and James lay the table while Lyn and Tim get bread, cold meats and salad from the fridge. James fills glasses with water, then leans close to Robbie as he sets them on the table. Robbie doesn’t move, and as James straightens he draws his fingertips along the back of Robbie’s hand. Robbie feels his stomach flip. No doubt about it, this isn’t just about enjoying a cuddle – for either of them.

There’s no opportunity to speak, or even exchange glances; Lyn and Tim are there and ready to eat. And as soon as food is cleared away, they’re off in separate directions again. Lyn’s insisted that they need childproof fasteners for all the cabinets, and socket covers, and that they might as well get safety gates while they’re at it.

“Andrew’s not even crawling yet, love,” Tim protests, but to no avail. Lyn insists that he’ll be crawling before they know it, and with how busy they always are who knows when they’ll have time to sort it. Tim and James are dispatched to Homebase with a long list.

Not that Robbie doesn’t suspect his daughter has an ulterior motive. He gives her credit for not rushing into it, though; they spend the first hour or so arranging furniture and ornaments in the living and dining room, and Robbie hangs pictures while Lyn stands back giving instructions. It’s when she suggests a cuppa that he knows he’s for it.

“I really like James.” She looks at him over the rim of her mug, clearly trying not to grin.

“He’s a decent enough bloke,” Robbie replies blandly, reaching for a biscuit. “All right for a posh academic type, I s’pose.”

“Dad!”

“What?” He raises an eyebrow, giving nothing away.

“He’s very... fond of you,” she says, tentative.

“Should hope so. Done him a few favours over the years. Would be pretty poor return if he didn’t like me.”

He watches her try not to roll her eyes. “You’ll bring him up with you for Christmas, I hope?”

“No guarantee we’ll both have the time off – or that he’ll want to come.” Robbie sips his tea. “He might be afraid he’ll be put to work again.” This time, he allows himself a faint smirk.

Lyn sighs, accepting she’ll get nothing out of him. “All right, I’ll stop digging. I just wanted you to know–” She stands, moves behind him and drops a kiss on his head. “–if he’s what you want, I really do like him and I’m happy for you. And now you can pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about, and we’ll go and unpack the bathroom stuff.”

He’s still not going to tell her anything – not that there’s anything to tell yet anyway – but he does squeeze her hand. “Come on, then, pet. Best get moving before the other two are back and want to know where their tea is.”

_____________________________

James and Tim get back half an hour later, and Robbie goes out to help them unload the car. Without even being conscious of it, his eyes go straight to James, who turns to look at him as if he’d somehow sensed Robbie’s gaze. James gives him a self-conscious smile, then nods at the baby-gates he’s holding. “Should get these inside, out of the rain.”

Robbie watches him go, until he realises that he’s standing in the rain like an idiot and that Tim’s struggling with a rocking-chair. With a muttered excuse about daydreaming, he takes one end and helps Tim carry it inside.

By seven-ish, the important stuff is all unpacked, and Lyn insists the remaining boxes can wait. Tim’s mum has brought Andrew back – and stayed for a cuppa and practically grilled James on who he was and what he was doing there – and Lyn’s now upstairs, feeding Andrew in her new chair. 

“Pizza?” Tim suggests. Robbie’s about to offer to go and pick it up – it’d be an opportunity to get James to himself – but Tim’s already adding that their local delivers very quickly. James gives him a quick, resigned smile – Christ, they really do read each other bloody well most of the time – and helps Tim figure out toppings and side-orders. Robbie excuses himself to use the loo, brushing a hand over James’s back on his way out of the room.

_____________________________

Finally, it’s ten o’clock and, with the excuse of another heavy day of physical work, Robbie can plead tiredness and escape to bed. James stands as well but, although Robbie expects him to go outside for a cigarette first, he follows Robbie upstairs.

At last, a chance to see where they stand – but the butterflies in Robbie’s stomach get the better of him, and he ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth. James does the same as soon as Robbie returns to the bedroom, and while he waits Robbie changes into his pyjamas, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

As soon as James walks into the bedroom, Robbie can see exactly the same nervousness written all over him. His face is paler than usual, and his breathing is rapid. Yet there’s hope in his eyes, and that’s what makes Robbie walk over to him. “Well? You know what I’m askin’.”

He can’t help holding his breath as he waits for James’s answer. The lanky sod’s face creases into one of his mocking smiles. “I’m afraid telepathy wasn’t on the syllabus at Cambridge.”

Robbie rolls his eyes. James takes a deep breath, then tilts his head downwards. “May I...?”

Robbie steps closer. “Think you’d better.” Now he’s holding his breath again, but this time he couldn’t draw in oxygen if he tried. 

Finally, James kisses him, or he kisses James – he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. It’s awkward at first; he’s not used to being the shorter partner, or to scratchy stubble – now he knows why Val used to make him shave in the evenings – but James wraps an arm around his waist, and he cups the back of James’s neck, and it’s all bloody amazing.

_____________________________

This time, they’re cuddling before they go to sleep.

No sex, or anything approaching it, for now; Robbie’s not ready to go that far yet, and James is unhappy about taking advantage of Lyn’s hospitality, as he puts it. Robbie suspects that James is probably not much more experienced in the fine arts of lovemaking between two blokes as he himself is. Not to worry; they’ll figure it out together when they’re ready.

“You don’t need to worry about Lyn, y’know. She got you and Tim out of the way just so she could tell me she likes you.” He presses a kiss to James’s jaw. “An’ that she’s happy for us.”

“She told me she was glad you have me. I thought she meant as your bagman. I couldn’t understand why she hugged me.” 

“She’s adopted you.” Robbie grins. “By tomorrow she’ll be calling you her stepdad.”

James pulls a face, but there’s pleasure in his eyes. “I like your family. Most of all... I like you.”

“Like you too, you daft git.” He kisses James again.

A long time later, he says, “Lyn wants the two of us to come for Christmas. What do you think?” 

“Will I have to learn to change Andrew’s nappy?”

“Should think so.” Robbie grins at the faint alarm in James’s eyes. “Sort of thing a step-grandad should be able to do, don’t you think?”

Even though he’s teasing, it occurs to him as he says it that he’s assuming this very new development in their relationship will be a long-term thing. Yet, despite all the indicators that should be suggesting otherwise – the age disparity, their working relationship, the fact that he’s only ever had relationships with women before – gut instinct is telling him that it will last. He’s not going anywhere, and hasn’t James already announced, somewhat obliquely, that he’s not either? 

“I’ll add it to my to-do list – immediately following _find Robbie something more appealing to wear in bed_.”

“Oi! What’s wrong with my pyjamas?”

James quirks an eyebrow. “Nothing that throwing them in the nearest bin won’t fix.” He strokes his hand over Robbie’s back, rubbing in gentle circles. “It’s the least I can do, after what you’ve done for me.”

Robbie ignores the further insult to his nightwear. “What’s that, then?”

“Cured me, of course.” Oh, right, his existential flu.

“Good.” He shifts closer. “S’pose it’s my job to see you don’t have a relapse.”

James meets him halfway for the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this does in fact contain several tropes - feel free to enumerate them!


End file.
